


Toxic Masculinity? More Like Toxic Everything Haha Someone Please Get This Kid Some Therapy

by Frog_that_writes



Series: Queer Bad Kids (dimension 20) [4]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: (why isn't that a tag), Autistic Fabian, BECAUSE THEY ARE, Be gentle, SO, Trans Fabian, Trans Male Character, also, also a VERY brief fabriz moment, also barely proofread, as a trans male, because bill isn't the best role model, but jawbone is dismantling that shit, dw, fabian has got some whack ideas of standards he has to live up to, internalized ableism, mentiones of all the other bad kids being trans and autistic, no beta we die like men, rated for langauge, thanks for coming to my ted talk, very blink-and-you'll-miss-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frog_that_writes/pseuds/Frog_that_writes
Summary: The Bad Kids bug Fabian into going to Jawbone, resulting in what some might call questionable therapy but also some damn good advice.
Series: Queer Bad Kids (dimension 20) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603384
Comments: 3
Kudos: 115





	Toxic Masculinity? More Like Toxic Everything Haha Someone Please Get This Kid Some Therapy

Fabian was rather young when he announced that he was a boy. In elven terms, he was practically a new born when he told Cathilda that he thought the dresses she laid out for him were dumb, and that he was a boy and boys didn't dress like that. He had a vague memory of her laughing and shaking her head, saying that boys could dress however they wanted, but if he preferred she would find him a nice pair of trousers instead. And from that point on it was a slow (but fast, if he were to talk in human terms instead. Time was rather relative when one of your parents were immortal and the other would be lucky to get eighty years) transition as he got bolder and bolder in his denial of all things feminine and began requesting haircuts and a name change. 

And obviously, this is something that felt right, and it was like truly becoming himself every time he got a little but closer to becoming the Fabian Aramias Seacastor everyone knew him as, but it was certainly nice how it seemed to flip a switch in his father. Because back before he was Fabian and insisted upon sword fighting lessons Bill had always seemed a touch distant, and that coupled with a perpetually wine drink mother ment he was primarily raised by his maid. But then Bill was always insistent upon spending time with his son, and every nick and scrap he got wrestling or training was something to be celebrated. And who could fault Fabian for agreeing to leap at every chance to prove how much of a man he was, just like his father? It didn't matter if some part of him thought the traditional long hair and flowy clothes of elves looked rather nice, he was a man and human men didn't wear those kinds of things. His father supported him and that was all he could ask for. 

Sometimes Fabian didn't quite get it right. He didn't look people in the eyes or his hands moved too much while he was talking, or some of the sarcastic remarks made in the already unusual pirate slang flew over his head, and his father would have to correct him. It seemed like that happened a lot, probably because he was born the wrong way and had to overcome some of the things that were supposed to come easily for men. He could hold a sword and spit on the floor and curse up a storm but the rest of it was a little harder, sometimes, but that was fine. He was learning every time Bill pointed out another shortcoming to him, and even when the corrections felt so  _ wrong  _ that was just because he wasn't used to behaving the right way. He just had to get better.

But then there had been some conversation he wasn't privy to and it was agreed that the best choice was to send him to an actual school for the two years leading up to high school instead of the homeschooling he had been participating in with Cathilda, and there were teachers he called him slow and brash and one teacher who called him a name he hadn't been called by his parents since he was seven and the wrong pronouns, and there was a guidance counselor he had to see once a week during art class, which Fabian was strangely made about considering he was a boy and boys shouldn't like art anyways. 

And the counselor didn't know what he was talking about, because he said that Fabian disliking eye contact and wanting to flap his hands was okay, because it was very likely that he was autistic, and he should bring a paper home to his parents so that they could come in for a talk, and then he could maybe see someone a bit more qualified. 

Somehow, the paper never made it home. 

It's not like Bill Seacastor had any reason to go to parent teacher conferences anyways. 

But Fabian handled himself just fine, thank you very much. He let the teachers words roll of his back and never internalized any of them, because they didn't understand that he was Fabian Aramias Seacastor, son of Bill Aramias Seacastor, Scourge of the Seven Seas. He went to class and got passing grades and middle school sucked but he got by with reminders that it was temporary, and Augefort would be better. 

And if you had asked Fabian at any point, even on his first day when he was covered in corn and had just watched his lunch lady get brained by her own ladle and two of his party members had died, he would say truthfully that it was. Because he had friends now, and even though they were weird and all but one of them was poor and didn't understand him most of the time, they were nice. 

Well, at least, he thought they were nice until they badgered him into visiting Jawbone until he caved at the beginning of sophomore year. 

"Fabian!" The counselor looked up and made a point to put down his pen and lean back from his desk. "Come on in buddy, I've been wondering when you would stop by." 

"Yes, well, you know how the other's can be… pushy." 

The werewolf snorted at that. "They're just looking out for you and each other they best way they know how. Any particular reason for this visit, though?"

"My friends keep claiming that if I don't want to talk about my issues with them I should at least talk to you, but I don't  _ have  _ any issues to talk about in the first place!"

"Fabian, buddy, I'm going to say this as nicely as possible, but you just killed your fucking dad, what, three, four months ago? There's gotta be some shit to unpack there."

"Not really," he shrugged. "The house was on fire, I saved my mother, my father was going to die and I knew he would have preferred it had he died at my own hand. The only lasting problem I have from that night is my lack of depth perception from losing my eye, but that looks sick as hell so I can't really complain." 

"So you don't even feel a little off knowing you killed your father just because he wanted you to? Didn't you get into a fight before that was well?" 

"Well, yes, but I found a recorded message from him before I got to the house saying he, y'know, loved me as a son and all that."

"That's nice, did you hang onto it?"

"Of course not, I destroyed it. My father wouldn't have wanted people to find out he had emotions."

"Uh-huh, and so the only two things you have left of your dad are your eye patch and sword now?" 

"The only two things I really need." Jawbone let out another sound and leaned back further in his chair, seemingly contemplating something. Eventually, he spoke up again.

"You haven't made eye contact this whole conversation." Without even fully meaning to, Fabian shot his eyes up to meet Jawbone's classic lycanthropy infected yellow eyes. 

"Sorry," he said quickly.

"Ain't nothing to apologize for, kiddo, I was just pointing something out. I dont think it's dude or any of that bullshit people spout."

"Yes, well, my papa always told him whenever I forgot that eye contact let's other people know you aren't weak," Fabian explained. "It's an important part of having a conversation." 

"Hm, and is that something you struggled with a lot? Making eye contact when talking to folks?" 

"Yes," Fabiran admitted tentatively. "But doesn't everyone?" Jawbone hummed again in lieu of answering. 

"What does this have to do with my nonexistent issues?"

"Maybe nothing, maybe everything," Jawbone shrugged. "But if you don't have any issues and your friends badgered you into seeing me, why don't we just talk. How's the rest of your party doing?"

"Oh, quite well I'd imagine. Adaine is working on her whole Oracle thing, and Kirsten's new religion is doing well. The Ball is still always working, but he always stops when I come to visit him in his new office."

"Yeah, I'm sure he does," Jawbone said with something Fabian didn't quite understand in his voice. "What about you, any plans for the year?" 

"Besides winning at the Blood Rush finals next month? Not particularly." 

Jawbone leaned back and took a swing of his tea, grimacing a little at the taste. 

"Yuck, I always forget to drink this shit while it's still warm and I end up with the gross dregs at the bottom. Know what I mean?"

"Um, yeah, for sure."

The silence hung in the air between them, seemingly comfortable on the counselor's part but leaving Fabian anxious to say something. He began tapping his fingers against his check, a habit his father had tried to work out of him but something he always felt himself coming back to at moments like this. His mind began whirring through anything he could say that wouldn't lead to an awkward hull in conversation, and, influenced by where his thought had been all day, blurted something out. 

"Jawbone, you're trans, correct?"

"Uh." The counselor looked confused, and Fabian fought the urge to slap himself. "Yeah, kiddo, I am. Why, is there something related to gender or sexuality you want to discuss?"

"No- well, I mean yes, but-" the werewolf peered over his glasses at him, and he struggled to still his hand and bring it back down beside him on the couch. "Do you ever feel like because you're trans you don't know how to be a man? Like you're doing something wrong and no matter how hard you try you'll never be able to get everything right?"

"I'll be honest, I used to feel like that a lot after transitioning. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but are you trans as well?"

Fabian nodded, and Jawbone repeated the action. "All right, is there a different name or pronouns you want to go by?"

"No- I mean, you misunderstand. I transitioned a long time ago " 

"Oh, congrats. Sorry, but I never thought Bill Seacastor would be the type to be so supportive."

"Papa was very useful in explaining how men are supposed to behave, actually," Faian explained perhaps a touch too defensively. Jawbone held up his hands. 

"That's great. But back to feeling like you're not living up to gender roles, I'll start by saying I don't think you have anything to worry about. I totally pegged you as cis, and you're captain of the blood rush team for pete's sake. But I'll also say that you shouldn't feel like just because you're trans you have to live up to toxic standards. I understand, but it'll just eat ya' up inside eventually.”

“Sometimes I just feel like these things just don’t come as naturally for me as they do for cis men,” Fabian said.

“Hm, do you know any other trans people?” Jawbone asked carefully.

“I know the rest of the party besides Kristen is,” he answered. “They all told me they came out to you already.”

“Right, just making sure I’m not blabbing their secrets without their consent,” Jawbone nodded. “But you know Riz doesn’t play blood rush and prefers dexterity over strength, does that mean that, because he’s trans, he’s less of a man?”

“Of course not!” Fabian said automatically. “I get the whole toxic gender roles thing, but sometimes even stuff that should be easy like looking people in the eyes or holding my hands still just seems so  _ hard. _ ”

The werewolf let a beat pass while he debated the right words to say to himself, and Fabian wondered if maybe he was so fucked up that even his counselor thought he was a lost cause.

“You ever feel like everyone around you is operating on a different wavelength? Like maybe their all communicating telepathically about the right things to say and do and they forgot to include you in the message spell”

“I-” The unexpected question threw him for a moment. “I mean, I guess? I feel like sometimes I don’t understand other people, for sure.”

“Have you ever talked to anyone else about this?”

“Adaine mentioned it sounded a bit like her anxiety once, and Kirsten said she agreed, but I don’t think I have anxiety and Kirsten never knows what’s going on.”

Jawbone snorted and waved his hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, but I live with that kid and it’s a pretty accurate statement all things considered.” 

“Which one?”

“Both. But you’ve never talked to any other adults about it?” 

“Well, there was this counselor I was forced to go to in middle school who kept saying things, but he obviously had no idea what he was talking about.”

“Why don’t ya tell me some of those things he said anyways, just so I can make sure it really was all bullshit? I know you know you better than anyone else, but when you look at your reflection some things get flipped, and an outside perspective can help.”

“He always said I might have…” the word seemed stuck in Fabian’s throat, like he had to force it out and off his tongue. It felt like saying it would change him, make him different somehow. “Y’know.”

“Sorry, kiddo, but I really don’t unless you say it.”

“Autism,” he finally whispered. “He thought I might be autistic.”

“I’m not qualified to make a formal diagnosis, but that honestly makes a lot of sense.”

Fabian whipped his head up, just now realizing he had even brought it down in the first place, and stared wide eyed at Jawbone. “What?”

“Yeah, you stim, dislike eye contact, get a little blurry around the edges of social interactions, and process thoughts differently that neurotypicals do. Like I said, I can’t diagnose you, but an informal diagnosis can help you start learning some coping mechanisms and just how to make your life a little bit easier. You don’t just start getting symptoms after a diagnosis afterall, and even if the label don’t fit doesn’t mean you have to suffer when there are resources to help you.”

“But I can’t be autistic,” Fabian didn’t realize how much the words sounded like a plea until he said them. “I just can’t.”

“Look, I can’t just tell you to erase all the internalized ableism I’m sure you’ve built up over night, but I just want you to think about this for a minute. I know Riz, Gorgug, and Fig have shared their diagnosis with you because they’ve mentioned it to me personally. Have you ever thought less of them?”

“No, but that's different. They don’t-”

“What? Have symptoms like you? Gorgug has no idea how to stumble through a social interaction, Fig gets nauseous even thinking about eye contact, and Riz has got a whole bucket load of stims. Besides, Adaine’s anxiety makes her different, too. Do you think less of her because she had panic attacks and can’t drive because it makes her anxious?”

“No,” Fabian whispered. 

“I understand it’s a lot to have to go through,” Jawbone sighed. “And accepting yourself is always hard, no matter the label, but you’ve just got to ask yourself if the shit your mind says about you is stuff you would think about your friends. If the answer is no, you’ve gotta ask what makes you different from the rest of your party. If you’re all equal, why should you hold yourself to a higher standard?’

“Right, yes, that makes sense,” Fabian nodded, head swimming with its effort to keep up. “That’s- I understand, yes.”

“Lunch is in five minutes, kid, why don’t you go wait up for your friends? Drink some water, you look like you need it. And just remember you can come to me any time, you hear? Don’t wait for your friends to drag you here when it gets real bad. You teens and your self destructive habits will be the end of me.”

Fabian nodded and made his way to the door, turning around with his hand hovering above the handle. “Jawbone?” The counselor hummed to show he was listening. “Thanks.”

“No problem kid,” he smiled. “Now get out of here, I have shit to do.”

The sound of his laughter filled the room before he closed the door to the office behind him, leaving behind a werewolf who figured he must be cut out for this job, after all. Damn these kids and their ability to make him seem good at his job. He should start handing out random prescriptions again. 

**Author's Note:**

> god i just can't stop projecting onto these characters someone help me  
> hope y'all like this, all the bad kids are queer, autistic, and trans and i will NOT be changing my mind thank you and good night  
> plz comment and kudo i need constant validation


End file.
